Calamity
by Twinings
Summary: Bruce Wayne doesn't throw parties very often. When he does, they almost never involve masks. -CAT-


_Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or his world._

_...duh._

_CATverse. www. freewebs. com/ catverse after (or simultaneously with) BiteMeTechie's "Masque."_

* * *

_Calamity_

Bruce Wayne didn't throw parties very often, but when he did, they were legendary. It was inevitable that there would be party crashers. Like the curvy peacock whose cleavage Lex Luthor was finding so enthralling. If she was up to any mischief, she would have to get away from Lex first—and what a surprise it would be to him if he knew he was serving Batman's needs. There were a few young men he recognized as old friends of Dick's, possible pranksters, but Alfred was already keeping a sharp eye on them. Speak of Dick, Scarlett O'Hara (otherwise known as Mrs. Ursula Karpathy, the mother of one of Dick's old friends, but not on the guest list herself) was trailing after him like an infatuated girl. Well, Dick could dodge her; he had learned from the best.

Barbara had found an intruder, and was tailing him as discreetly as any one of Batman's protégés could be counted on to do. Tim was by the buffet table, pestering a sulking golden dragon who didn't belong there. And that left two or three more for Batman to investigate.

He chose, as the most likely target for Bruce the Playboy's attention, the slender young woman in the Zorro mask and silver and black Wild West ball gown, who was sipping champagne in the corner and scanning the room with an attitude of something more than simple boredom. Whatever she was looking for, she had chosen a good spot. He would be able to keep an eye on the other two, a middle-aged couple dressed as a couple of ancient Greek gods, while he talked to her.

Bruce made his way to the girl, circulating through the crowd with practiced ease, stopping for a bit of small talk here, sampling an hors d'oeuvre there, until he wound up by her side as if by accident.

"I don't think I've seen you here before."

The Zorrita dropped her champagne glass.

"Sh—don't—oh, I'm sorry!" She dropped to her knees to pick up the broken glass. Bruce joined her on the floor.

"It's all right. I have plenty more where that came from."

"You…you're Bruce Wayne, aren't you?"

"Only by day," he answered. The girl looked up at him and giggled shyly, letting her eyes sweep over his ridiculous padded muscles and the _S_ emblem on his chest. "And you? I'd very much like to know where to send Alfred when he wants an explanation of why we're short a glass, and it bothers me not to know the names of all my guests, especially the pretty ones."

"I…" She flinched and dropped her shards of glass. "Ow, damn, shi—meg, fu—mmm, ow!" She put her finger in her mouth to stop the pain, or maybe just to stop the unladylike curses from spilling out.

"Let me see," Bruce offered. Reluctantly, the girl held out her hand to him. He inspected the fingertip of her black glove, now stained darker with blood. "Does it hurt?" She flinched when he put pressure on her finger.

"N-no. I don't think it's very deep." Without a word, Bruce stripped the satiny glove down from the young woman's elbow, over her wrist and off her hand. She shivered as his hands passed over her skin. He considered adding her to the list of Bruce Wayne's conquests if his trap failed to lure in the night's real quarry.

"Accident prone, I see," he said, as he touched, one by one, the neon orange and yellow band-aids decorating each finger. "And you still haven't told me your name."

"Jane." She took back her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. "Calamity Jane."

"Very clever, Miz Calamity," he said with his best Texas twang. Jane cringed.

"Please don't ever run off to be a cowboy, Mr. Wayne. The Gotham accent suits you much better."

"You don't have to call me Mr. Wayne. My friends call me Bruce." He smiled the ten thousand watt smile. She smiled back, matching him sparkle for sparkle.

"Bruce."

"Jane. Don't you think we should go somewhere a little more private?"

The Zorrita's hand strayed to the ivory-handled pistol at her hip.

"Are you making a pass at me, Mr. Wayne? Because I should warn you, I'm better than Annie Oakley."

Bruce leaned over to whisper tenderly in her ear, "You're bleeding on my carpet."

"Oh." She blushed. "Sorry. I didn't realize."

"That's okay. I don't like this carpet anyway." He procured a silk handkerchief, monogrammed with his initials—Alfred insisted on slipping them into his pockets when he wasn't looking—and wrapped it around her finger. "I think that should take care of it."

"Thanks," she said shyly.

"Now, why don't we leave the mess for someone else? Come dance with me."

"How very irresponsible of you." She put her hand in his and let him lead her out into the swirling crowd.

The girl was unsure of herself, but light on her feet. It was easy enough to lead her across the floor, taking a good look at the other suspects as he did so. Lex had lost his peacock, and was suffering through the vapors of the middle-aged belle. Bruce smiled.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked. Startled, Jane tried to pull away. He kept her close.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He watched Babs "accidentally" run into the party crasher she was watching and quickly finagle a dance out of him.

"I mean, you weren't invited. Believe me, I would have remembered."

"Oh…all right, ya got me, cap'n," she said in a delightfully ghastly Lisson Grove accent. "I'm a fraud. I'm an 'Ungarian princess, I am. Blood bluer than the Danube is or ever was." Bruce caught sight of Alfred leading one of Dick's friends out by the ear, hid a smirk, and turned his gaze back on the girl.

"Well, you could pass for one, anyway."

Jane's eyes narrowed.

"And you could almost pass for a gentleman."

"Who wants to be a gentleman?" He spun her around, making her giggle breathlessly. The dragon glared at Tim and held her glass of champagne out of his reach, to his apparent disappointment. "They never get to have any fun."

Speaking of fun, Dick seemed to be enjoying himself under the table with that pretty peacock. They weren't nearly as well hidden as they seemed to think.

And as for the couple dressed as Artemis and Apollo…they had separated, and were covering both exits. With crossbows. Inauthentic, but a nice touch. He shoved Jane behind him a split second before the woman shouted, "NOBODY MOVE! This is a robbery!"

The room erupted into chaos. Yet again, he found himself exasperated by his own social set. Every last one of them had been robbed at least once over the past year, most of them had been at some of the same parties this same couple had targeted earlier in the month, but they were still reacting like a terrified herd. But at least Bruce should have a chance to make a quick change behind the curtains.

Jane ran for the door, relieving him of the need to distract her. He slipped behind the curtains and stripped off the bulky crayon-colored suit to reveal the sleeker black armor underneath. The mask went over his face, the foam rubber costume went into the hiding place under the window seat that had once housed a small boy's trains and firetrucks, and Batman burst onto the scene with every ounce of theatricality he possessed.

This wasn't the scene he had anticipated. Jane had drawn her ivory-handled pistols—apparently not props after all—and was facing off against Apollo. The peacock, slightly disheveled, was waving a gun of her own at Artemis. Barbara was nowhere to be seen, presumably changing into Batgirl. And Nightwing was crawling out from under the table and plainly had no idea that the dragon was about to kick him in the head.

He gave his cape an extra flare and intoned, "What's going on here?"

The dragon missed Nightwing's head and fell flat on her back. The peacock looked over her shoulder and gave him a cheery wave.

"Didn't you hear? Robbery."

"I said nobody move!" the Artemis bellowed. No one was listening to her, of course. The guests were still milling around in a general panic; Nightwing, before he could inform the thieves that they were outnumbered, tripped over the dragon, pulling down Luthor and the belle in his struggle to stay upright. Tim, still dressed as whatever action hero it was he had decided to be, was edging around behind them with a fondue fork, for all the good that was going to do. Inwardly, Batman sighed.

The peacock fired a shot into the ceiling. He could just imagine Alfred's huff as the plaster rained down.

"Listen up, you primitive screwheads! This is a boomstick! Those…" She pulled back on the hammer. "Those are obsolete."

"Technically—" Jane started.

"Not now, Cap."

"But th—"

"Obsolete," she repeated firmly. Jane's shoulders sagged, allowing her pistols to droop—a dangerous move, if the twins had thought to take advantage of it. But they were too busy laughing at the peacock and her little snub-nose.

"That barely qualifies as a peashooter," Apollo sneered.

"Wait a minute, I have a boomstick," the dragon said cheerfully, and pulled out a shotgun. Where she'd been hiding it in that tight-fitting champagne dress that caught the light so well, Batman honestly didn't know.

"Huzzah," said Jane. "The Greeks are outgunned."

"But not outmatched," Artemis snapped. "This is our robbery, and we don't share."

"But we were here first!"

The blond goddess flailed in indignation.

"You were not!"

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

By this time, Tim had made it around behind the Greek twins, but showed no sign of actually using his fork. The kid was good, but he was going to have to learn not to let his sense of fun get away with him.

"Listen, damn it, this is our heist," the peacock yelled, stomping her foot in frustration.

"We were here first!" Artemis yelled back.

"But we've been planning this for weeks!"

"Well, more like hours," Jane corrected. "Okay, actually, we were mugging some people on their way to a party down the street, and we figured, 'Why not?'"

"We still have every right to be here," the dragon added.

Batman cleared his throat loudly. Five pairs of eyes turned toward him, and the peacock, the Zorrita, and the dragon instantly pointed at the Greek twins.

"It's their heist."

Batman scowled.

"Out."

Grateful for the direction, the partygoers started streaming out the doors. The dragon tried to follow them out. Nightwing blocked her path.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, you're no fun."

"Get back here!" Artemis shouted. "I didn't say you could leave! Damn it!" She turned her crossbow on Batman and fired, exactly the frustration-driven move he had expected. He lunged to the side, barely feeling the tug as the arrow snagged his cape. A batarang sailed from his hand, aimed not at the now-disarmed Artemis, but at her sunlit twin. Apollo cursed at the sting of steel on flesh, and dropped his weapon. Fumbling to reload her crossbow, Artemis fell victim to Tim's outstretched foot. The dragon giggled, delighted not to be the only one knocked flat on her back.

Jane threw one of her pistols at Nightwing and ran. Batman let her go. Batgirl could handle her.

Choosing the target that seemed most likely to be a serious threat in a hand to hand fight, Batman snared Apollo with a bola. The Greek went down, fighting the ropes.

Artemis finally succeeded in reloading her crossbow, only to have it knocked out of her hands by the dragon, who was overzealously using her shotgun as a club.

The peacock swished her skirt at Nightwing in a move that was pure Catwoman, a gesture that screamed, "You can't catch what you don't chase." Nightwing looked at him the way Dick used to look at Bruce just before he asked to borrow the Porsche. Batman gave the boy a slight nod. After all, he couldn't in good conscience deny him permission for the very thing he had indulged in so many times.

As if _she_ had been waiting for the signal, the peacock took off like a shot. The crowd in the doorway parted for her like magic. Nightwing went after her.

The dragon, abandoned by her cohorts, wasn't likely to try to cause much trouble alone. She would run if he turned his attention to the goddess, but he could trust Tim to slow her down, if Batgirl didn't stop her at the door.

--

"And he followed me clear across the grounds, jabbering about the coolness of crime and asking me questions about my shotgun. I had to point him at Wonder Woman's ass before he was distracted enough for me to get away."

"Wait," Jonathan interrupted. "Why was Wonder Woman there?"

"Well, the female half of the duo used to be an Amazon, so Star Spangled Panties figured she was responsible for taking her straying sister back into custody. She broke all kinds of rules, running off to Man's World and picking up some guy to be her partner."

"Twit," said the Captain, her voice slightly muffled by the hand holding the ice pack to her eye. (That Batgirl had a kick like a mule.)

"Hey, I don't blame her. He was hot." Techie gave up struggling with her costume. "Squish, unzip me?"

"Oh, I think not."

"But it's _stuck_."

"Then you shouldn't have chosen something with that many feathers."

With a frown, she threw herself down in his lap, very nearly tipping his chair over backwards.

"Don't make me ask you again, Squishums."

"Get off me!" She leaned back, laying her head on his shoulder and incidentally squashing him just about as flat as a pancake. He helpfully ripped open the back of her dress, bypassing the zipper entirely, and then shoved her off his lap.

"Ow. Thank you, Squishy." She slithered out of her feathered ball gown, revealing something underneath just a little more modest than Poison Ivy's usual costume. Bruce Wayne's silverware and a selection of random baubles clattered to the floor around her feet, joining the pile of things that had fallen out of the Captain's dress when she'd stripped. Al picked up a god bracelet and twirled it around her finger.

"Oh, sure, rip off _her_ clothes," she muttered. "It's not like I have anything interesting in _my_ bodice."

"What are you so huffy about, Number One?"

"You! Them! Everything! Men! Y'all go to a party and get romanced by the richest, most gorgeous men in the room. I go to the party and get followed around by a kid in the eighth grade who wants to be a Terminator. What's so bad about me, that nobody likes me after they hit puberty?" She slapped at her satiny skirt. "There's just no point getting dressed up like this. Nobody wants to dance with someone who looks like me."

Jonathan took the precaution of getting up and putting the chair between him and her before he snapped, "Don't be ridiculous, woman. _I_ danced with you, once."

"Not because you thought I was pretty," she retorted. Jonathan frowned. The Captain lifted the ice pack away from her face, waiting eagerly for his response.

"You're prettier than I am. Take what you can get."

Her eyebrows drew together, and her mouth turned down in an angry pout. He stepped back, knowing they were all expecting something more from him, though he couldn't imagine what. The Captain sat up.

"I think you're beautiful, Number One." Al rolled her eyes.

"No, you don't."

"You calling me a liar?" She tossed her ice pack away and swept the first mate into a loose embrace. "Dance with me, bitch."

Al giggled.

"Don't be silly, Cap'n."

"Who's joking?" She led her friend in an airy waltz around the room, both of them giggling until they tripped over the rug and crashed to the floor.

"Klutz," said Techie. "Oh, that reminds me. I think Batman's going to be coming after us soon."

"_What_?"

"Cinderella there left her glove behind."

"Oh, is that all?"

"And then she threw a gun at Nightwing with her fingerprints all over it."

"Oh, wonderful," he sighed.

"Yeah, I think we're pretty screwed. Oh, and by the way, Squishy? When she said, 'Not because you thought I was pretty'? That was your cue to do something romantic that would make her sing happily for the rest of the night."

"Oh, I see." He glanced down at the pair giggling on the floor. "Is that what she wants?"

"What, romance? What do _you_ think?"

"I think if any of you try to bother me tonight, romance will be the least of your concerns."

They all started singing at him as he retreated to the lab. And he ignored them as well as he ever had.


End file.
